


Patterns of Control

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-22
Updated: 2002-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray suffers a loss.





	Patterns of Control

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Patterns of Control

## Patterns of Control

by Ashlan

Disclaimer: Characters owned by Alliance/Paul Haggis/Paul Gross.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Joseph for the lightning beta.

Story Notes: Abortion.   


* * *

Ray seemed distracted this morning. His responses to Fraser's conversational sallies were delayed, at best, and desultory. There were moments when he would stare off to the near distance, a slight frown wrinkling his brow. His normal banter with his psuedo-sister Francesca was absent. 

"Ray, is something wrong?" 

Ray's eyes snapped to attention, focusing on Fraser's face. His expression was confused, then a bit - ashamed? Sad? He shook his head and leaned forward to put his elbows on the desk. "No, nothing's wrong Fraser. What, uh, the break-in thing. What was that you said, about Janovich not being the perp?" 

Fraser didn't quite believe him, but also knew that if Ray wanted to tell him he would, in his own time. "Ah, well, I believe that Janovich didn't have time . . . ." As he reiterated his theory about how the crime was performed, he noticed Ray's eyes lose their focus again. 

". . . so, therefore, the Red Wings won the Cup because they employed magic, which should eliminate them from the standings." Ray nodded while tapping the eraser of his pencil on the desk blotter. 

"Ray." Still tapping. "I think, perhaps, I'll take Dief for a walk on the Dan Ryan." 

Still tapping, now accompanied by a chewed lower lip. 

"Ray." No change. 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray . . . ." 

Finally, a response. "What?!" 

"I've summarized twice now and you haven't heard a word I've said." 

Ray sighed and rubbed his face. "I'm sorry Frase. Yeah, you're right, I've got, um, something on my mind." He looked around the squad room briefly and came to a decision. 

"Come on, let's get out of here." 

* * *

Twenty minutes later they were walking through Grant Park, moving steadily from shade to sunshine. Ray stopped by a bench facing the lake and settled, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands together. Fraser sat next to him, enjoying the (relatively) fresh air and quiet. They sat for a time, Ray looking at his hands, Fraser looking at Dief running through the bushes and at Ray. 

"You remember that gal I was going out with a few weeks back, uh, Arlene?" 

Ray's voice was soft, a bit diffident. Fraser thought for a moment, trying to bring the woman to mind. 

"Yes, she's a bit tall, full figured? Has a hearty laugh?" 

Ray smiled at Fraser's description. "Yeah, she has a hearty laugh and the big, uh, anyway. Yeah, that's Arlene. Anyhow, we broke up, remember?" 

Fraser looked at Ray closely. "Yes, I remember. You said she told you that she didn't want to be tied down, or something to that effect." 

Ray looked up to Fraser. His expression brought back the memory of the night Ray had recounted Arlene's words. Ray had been resigned, as if he could never expect any woman to wish to spend her life with him. Now, Ray's bringing up the subject, what did that mean? 

Ray continued. "Yeah, she didn't want to be tied down. Anyhow, she called me last night, asked me to meet her at Wing Yips, you know, that place over on Twenty-Sixth? So, I figure, sure, why not? Maybe she wants to uh, you know, get together for more than dinner. When I got there she was in the back. We, uh, we got something to eat, but . . . ." He stopped and turned away from Fraser to look back out over the lake again. As he often did when nervous or lost in thought, Ray ran his thumb along his jaw. 

"Remember back when I was, uh, when we were, uh, the Warren murder? You know, you hypnotized all of us?" Fraser straightened his back as he followed Ray's change of subject. That wasn't exactly a shining moment in his memory. The lack of observational skills demonstrated by three trained professionals still struck him as appalling. 

"Yes, Ray, I remember." Ray nodded and pointed his fingers at him. Fraser found himself staring at those two fingers as if they might bite. 

"Ok, remember how Welsh, no, you pointed out that I was, uh, what's the word, uh, _projecting_ \-- projecting my life into how I saw the thing at the mall go down?" Fraser nodded but Ray didn't even wait for a response as he continued. 

"Remember what I said about why they argued?" 

Fraser found he was holding his breath and released it in speech. "Yes Ray. You said something about waiting until her career was set, waiting for children . . . ." He stopped when Ray flinched and turned away from him. Ray sat very still, staring down at his clenched hands. It wasn't until he began to shudder, small, barely perceptible tremors that Fraser began to worry. "Ray?" 

Ray shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and tense. 

"Women, they bitch about how men got all the power, men control everything, men keep women in the dark, they're second class, on and on and on. You want to know the truth? The truth about men and women Fraser?" He looked over to Fraser again and Fraser wasn't surprised to see the brightness in his eyes, the shine of unshed tears. 

" _Women_ are in control. We guys, we don't get anything unless some woman says, okay, you can have some. Women control everything and we guys are just a bunch of dogs sniffing around for whatever scraps they're willing to toss us. And we're happy to get what they throw." He looked away again. 

"Just a bunch of dogs, Fraser, sniffing around when they have the control and laugh." 

Fraser was shocked. Ray had never been so negative and bitter, so full of hate. A brief impulse to argue the point, citing the roles women had been restricted to over the course of history, Roe Vs. Wade being a landmark for women gaining control over their bodies and so on. Then he realized that Ray knew all of this and even espoused most of the ideals inherent in those arguments. What had happened to cause this anger? He thought back over their conversation, or rather, Ray's comments. A glimmer of comprehension came and he felt a chill steal through his body. 

"Ray, why did Arlene want to meet with you?" 

Ray's breath hitched and he wrapped his arms around himself. His shoulders hunched up and he looked up into the sky. He laughed lightly, but there was no humour in it. 

"She told me she was pregnant. She thought it was mine and she was going to get rid of it." Despite his conclusion Fraser was shocked. He didn't know what to say, but he didn't need to respond. 

"We, uh, we used protection. I don't know how . . . any way. I don't even know if she was telling the truth about it being mine, because how do I know if she was seeing other guys? But she said, she said . . . ." He stopped and began to rock on the bench and tucked his chin into his chest. Fraser put his hand on Ray's shoulder in an effort to calm him. 

"You know, even if it isn't mine, I would, you know, like to have a chance to find out. But I won't get that chance. I tried, I asked her to wait, that I'd take the kid; she didn't have to worry about it, just give me a chance. She refused, her mind's made up, I don't get any say. I, uh, I gave her all the cash I had on me, to uh, pay for it. That's why she wanted to meet, she didn't have enough to pay for the, uh, the, uh, uh . . . ." He stumbled to a stop, unable to say the word and coughed. 

"That's the only connection I'll ever have with, with . . . it. That I helped pay for . . . uh, uh, god, oh god." He broke then; silent jerking sobs making his body clench into itself. Fraser wrapped his arm around Ray, trying to let him know, if awkwardly, that he emphasized. What to do? Ray's reaction to this event was worse than when they had saved Beth Botrelle at the last minute. As he often did when nervous, Fraser began to ramble. 

"You know, Ray, many of the old pagan religions are based on goddess worship. The cultures of these religions were often matrilineal and are theorized to have been peaceful agricultural societies. The ability to bear children was seen as a gift of the goddess and women were seen as blessed, mostly because the mechanics of pregnancy and conception was not fully understood." 

He paused to rub Ray's back a moment, trying to discern if what he was saying was doing any good. Ray turned toward him slightly, leaned into him and Fraser put his other hand up to rest on Ray's shoulder near his neck. A young woman walked past with a stroller, looking at them with curiosity as she passed. Fraser watched her as she continued on her way and felt a pang of . . . understanding. 

"There's a theory that recent cultures and religions that are patrilineal and more warlike in their makeup are due to an envy and fear on the part of men, who envied women their ability to bear children and feared that they were not important." He didn't know if his rambling was doing Ray any good until the trembling under his arm changed. 

"God, Fraser, what is it with you and the stories?" Ray unbent his back and leaned against the bench as he looked over at Fraser then away. His eyes were red and swollen, but he was smiling through his tears. Fraser was glad he had helped Ray, if only a little, and pulled his arm off Ray's shoulder. 

"As you know well, Ray, my education was somewhat more extensive than most." 

Ray nodded, his whole upper body moving with the action. "Yeah, yeah, extensive." He glanced at Fraser without turning his head and shrugged. "Uh, thanks for listening. I guess we should, um, get back to work, right?" Fraser looked at his watch. "Actually, as it is now past four o'clock, I would say it's safe to us to contemplate the rest of the evening." 

Ray shifted on the bench, then rose, turning his head while searching for Dief. "Yeah, let's go contemplate the rest of our evening Fraser. What do you say to something Chi- . . . uh, Mexican? How's the Mambo Grill sound?" 

"Sounds fine, Ray. Drop by the consulate so I can change first?" They were walking now, back to the car with Dief following. 

"Yeah, okay. Hey, tell me again about what you think about the break-ins. Why don't you think Janovich had anything to do with it?" For the third time Fraser recounted his theory, knowing this time Ray would pay attention. And later they would talk more about men, women and patterns of control. 

* * *

End Patterns of Control by Ashlan:

Author and story notes above.


End file.
